


Don't Paint Me Black(when i used to be golden)

by byunbunnie



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art AU, Fluff, M/M, nothing else, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunbunnie/pseuds/byunbunnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mark has a stalker and he is sort of flattered</p><p>or the one where mark keeps seeing paintings of himself around campus and doesnt know that jackson painted them</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Paint Me Black(when i used to be golden)

**thistle **  
****When Mark had seen the first painting he didn’t realize it was of him. He had been speed walking, his Wednesday’s were always rushed since his physics class was on one side of campus and the dance studio was on the other. With only five minutes between each class, he had mastered the cram-this-entire-sandwich-in-my-mouth-whilst-finishing-homework walk. So when he took a shortcut through the art building, he didn’t expect to see a painting of himself with cherry blossoms in the background. He had glanced at it while still walking, then back stepped to stop in front of it.  
The canvas was big, and it had probably been a final project for the artist, Mark hoped they got a good grade. Mark had to admit that he looked really good in the painting. The cherry blossoms matched his grey hair and shy smile. Shadows fell on his face in the right places making him look angelic. Mark didn’t remember anyone asking him if they could paint him, but he wasn’t mad.  
Mark took out his phone and snapped a picture of it, maybe he could show someone and ask about it. He glanced down at the picture, but it didn’t do the painting justice. Mark smiled to himself.  
He took a step closer to the painting to see if someone had signed but he only found an extravagant set of initials in the corner. Initials don’t help when you don’t even know half the people at the school. He looked around to see if there was anyone he could ask about it, but the hallway was empty. Mark realised that everyone was in class and he took off for his own, his mind running through every ‘JW’ he could think of.

 **dodger **  
****The next one he saw in the background of one of his friends selfie. Yugyeom was the youngest friend he had, and he was always posting on various social medias. Mark saw the pictures when he could, mainly when Yugyeom forced him to look at dance class before he posted them, asking for the elders approval.  
In this picture photo Yugyeom had some if his hair tied back and a pouty expression his face, but that wasn’t what Mark was looking at. In the background of the photo he could see what he was pretty sure was his face. It was painted on a blue background, and only the outlines of his features were drawn, so he blent into the background. Mark could only see half the painting, but he knew his own face.  
Mark could also see a hand holding a paintbrush, and that was it. A hand would not help him in his search, but he zoomed in on it anyway. It was tanner than his own, but most people were. Mark had thought about asking Yugyeom about the paintings, since he was an art major. MArk told himself that it wasn’t that important and that it was okay to put it off, but if he was going to tell the truth he was kinda nervous. (another thing Mark wouldn’t admit to himself was that he looked forward to finding the next picture of himself.)  
Mark once again zoomed in on the painting, and after focusing for longer than he would like to admit, Mark swore he could see a ‘JW’ in the corner. 

**ruby **  
****The next painting Mark saw was on an advertisement for an exhibition. It was just a picture of the painting, but it still took his breath away. It was a side profile of Mark and the artist had painted a crown on his head. The red glint of the rubies matched the fiery gaze in his eyes. He had made Mark’s hair darker than it currently is, almost black, and also a bit messier, and Mark thought that it matched the aesthetic of the painting well. He also thought about changing his hair to match the painting. He thought the colour made him look more in control, and Mark would like to atleast look like he had his life together.  
Mark stared at the picture and felt warm all over because clearly a lot of thought and imagination went into this piece. Just the idea of someone imagining him, even if it was him wearing a crown, made him want to bang his head against the wall the poster was on. In a good way though.  
Mark checked his timetable with the time of the exhibition and yes, he was free. This could be his chance to meet the person who had been painting him so beautifully this whole time. Mark had no idea what he would say, probably something along the lines of ‘Hi, I really like how I look in your paintings. Also who are you’. Even though Mark knew he would embarrass himself, he also knew he had to meet the person who was putting him on such a high pedestal. Mark wouldn’t be able to live up to their expectations, but he would try.  
Mark squinted and leaned close to the poster and even though it was barely visible, he could see a mini ‘JW’ on the shoulder of painting Mark’s shirt.

**azure **  
**Mark sees one more painting before the exhibition. He barely gets a glimpse of it, just a flash of his face and a smudge of colour. He shoots up from his seat out front of the small cafe, studying for an upcoming test forgotten as he strains his eyes to get a better look at the art.  
Mark stares at the painting as it gets further away, and he thinks he can see sea foam surrounding himself with aqua hair. There is also some coral coloured shapes(Mark would learn later that it was coral painted in the corner, right next to a similar coloured ‘JW’).**

**smoke **  
****When Mark arrived at the exhibition it was already in full swing, students, teachers and the public filling the small warehouse that had been rented to hold the event. Idle chatter and the smell of exotic wine filled the air.  
Mark noted everyone’s formal attire and looked down at his own black skinny jeans and white button up shirt. He didn’t necessarily thought he stuck out, he just wandered if his artist would think he was good enough.  
With the thought of the artist, Mark stepped further inside, on a mission to find a painting of himself. Mark felt nervous, he had all but fallen in love with the artist, through paintings of himself. It seemed like an absurd concept, but it was the way the artist viewed him, and painted him as if he was this angelic being, even if he was just a college student trying to decide if dance practice was worth prioritizing over his physics homework(yes, because he got a really good grade for that particular choreography and his teacher had told him he might be able to perform it in the showcase coming up)  
When he did find the artwork, and it truly was a work of art, his breath was taken away once again. In the painting, he was wearing a shirt very similar to the one he was wearing now, but it was unbuttoned further, showing off his pale chest. He was leaning back on his hands and had his head tilted up, with his eyes closed. The painting cut off at the waist, and where the last button was Mark could see a small ‘JW’.

Mark looked to the right and saw two more paintings, they were all the same size canvas, and all had similar color schemes. The middle painting was of Mark smiling. A big full smile, as though he didn’t think anyone was looking, but Mark felt contented knowing someone was. The artist had captured a look of what Mark could only describe as true happiness. The fact that this person had seen Mark in this state and decided it was worthy of an oil painting made Mark feel warm all over. He took a step closer and saw a ‘JW’ painted on the pale skin of his neck. 

The last painting painting of the three seemed the most intimate to Mark. Whilst someone would quickly skim their eyes over it, Mark couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was intimate in more than one way. One, he was shirtless. Two, he was sweaty. And three, it was of Mark in the dance studio. That was the place that Mark felt most at home, like it was just him in there dancing away his problems. Knowing that someone else had seen him was slightly distressing.  
In this particular painting, he had his hand resting on the mirror and was staring into his own reflection. It was full body, also showing some of the studio background. Mark immediately recognized the grey floors and black walls, lined with obscure art and concert posters. Mark looked and found the small ‘JW’ in the corner.

“I hope it’s okay.”

Mark jumped at the words, too engrossed in the art, turning around to face a well built boy with bleached white hair. He looked nervous but confident, comfortable in his own skin. Mark noted his tan skin and wide eyes. He was incredibly attractive and Mark was stunned for a moment, that expression must have shown on his face because the boy in front spoke again.

“That I painted you. That I have been for months”.

Mark couldn’t think of any words to say, at least not here, surrounded by obscure artwork, and even more obscure people studying them. He just wanted to leave, to be able to think clearly again. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Mark continued to stare at the boy in front of him. He looked mischievous, like he knew exactly what he was doing to Mark. Mark weakly nodded and followed after the boy. When they got outside Mark took a deep breath of fresh air, knowing that he would now be able to talk to the boy.

“I’m Mark”.

“I’m Jackson. Jackson Wang.”

Finally Mark could put a name to the ‘JW’ that had been taunting him in every painting. The two of them walked until they came to a park, the light from the moon being enough to illuminate the way. Jackson kept looking at Mark and would be annoyed by it, but he was doing the exact same thing to Jackson.  
Jackson laid down on the grass and Mark stood for a minute, admiring the other boy, before also laying back on the grass. It was slightly damp and the grass would probably stain his white shirt, but he didn’t care. He looked over to Jackson clothes, worried about their well being, but he saw the paint stains on his pants and figured the other didn’t care. 

“I like it”, said Mark, putting his hands under his head.

“Like what?” Jackson turned on his side, and Mark knew he was being watched. He turned to look at Jackson and couldn’t figure out what the look on the others face was. Mark wondered what went through Jackson’s head when he look at him.

“The way you see me. The way you paint me”.

After confessing that to Jackson, Mark turned to look back at the night sky. He knew Jackson was still watching him. The two were silent, Mark wasn’t worried. He knew he had plenty of time to get to know Jackson. He had a feeling that he would be seeing ‘JW’ a lot more often.

 

(“Why do I have to sit still for so long? You’ve painted me before without me even being there!” Mark was teasing, he would do anything for Jackson, even if it meant sitting still while the other painting him. Also he kind of loved the attention.

“Well I’m done now, so you can come see”, Jackson looked proud as Mark eagerly shifted so his head was resting on Jackson’s shoulders. The painting was a close up, with the main focus clearly Mark’s eyes.

“Are they stars in my eyes?”  
Mark looked to Jackson, who was suddenly kinda shy. In the short time Mark had known him, Jackson had never been shy.

“Well, the first night we talked. In the park, I saw galaxies in your eyes”.

“I love you too”, Mark said.

Jackson turned to him, a smile on his face. Mark could tell he was about to do something, but there was one more thing to do.

“You forgot one thing though”.

Mark reached and took the paintbrush from Jackson, then painted a small, but extravagant ‘JW’ in the corner.)

**Author's Note:**

> so thats that  
> this is kinda trash  
> the end is very anti-climatic im sorry  
> also the bold bits are sorta like the name of the painting, but theyre also names of the main colours in that painting  
> really my only goal with this was to have someone love it so much that they art the art i wrote  
> that is my dream
> 
> also the title is from the song 'Clairvoyant' by The Story So Far
> 
> anyways  
> thanks for reading my trash


End file.
